Fear
by anamcara78
Summary: Ana has just told Christian she's expecting their child. This short story takes up where he storms out. Told from Christian's POV. Rated T for language. I do not own, nor have no legal rights to these characters, just playing with what James gave us.
1. Chapter 1: Rage

Short and sweet I hope :o)

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Fear

_Fuck!_

I slammed the door closed, anger radiating through every pore. I wanted to beat the shit out of her, and right this minute were there not a door in between us I would have, _wouldn't I?_ Of course I would...wouldn't...fuck!

Running my hand through my hair and pulling it hard to repress a scream, I impatiently jabbed at the call button for the elevator. Honestly, this was the slowest lift in the world. I stamped my feet as if jogging on the spot, wringing my hands and covering my face, dragging them down hard, like I was trying to wipe something away.

A quiet ping alerted me to the fact the lift was waiting, and hurriedly I stepped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. Anger bubbled inside me like a witches brew, and I wouldn't have been at all surprised if lurid green steam was hissing from my nose and ears. How could she do this to us...to me? This has really fucked things up. A jolt disturbed my thoughts for a moment, and another quiet ping followed by a muffled whoosh told me we were at ground level, and I bolted out the door, my feet thumping the floor beneath me, my breath coming in heavy rasping gasps, like I was mega unfit asshole trying for the marathon.

The evening air was wet and cold, the earlier passing storm now just a residual threat as I numbly pounded the sidewalk. _Flynn...Flynn...Flynn..._my feet keeping perfect pace with the mantra in my head. Traffic tooted beside me, the tail end of rush hour in full swing; but then every hour was rush hour here. _Flynn...Flynn...Flynn..._I kept my rhythm, turning corners and crossing roads, only slowing if I had to._ Flynn...Flynn...Flynn...Ana...pregnant...baby..._"NO!" I yell, much to the surprise of the passing elderly couple. I think I hear them muttering something about lunatics, but I don't care, I'm focussed on my goal. My throat is stinging and dry, and I know it's because I'm not concentrating on my breathing. Claude is always telling me off for not keeping it in check when exercising. _From the diaphragm Grey!_

I slow to a jog as I near John Flynn's place - a modest detached property on the outer rim of the Olympic National Park – and swung round the concrete pillars that act as a boundary between the walled front garden, the long sweeping drive, and the sidewalk.

I knock on the door. Nothing. No-one's home. I hammer the door with my fists but still no-one comes. I sidestep to my right and peer through the windows, but all is dark, no lights, and no movement. I turn around and crouch down on my haunches, my back to the wall, trying to alleviate my growing panic. I manage to slow my breathing and clear my head enough to think. _What would Flynn say...he'd ask why I ran, what I'm so scared of...and I'd say...I'd say...what would I say?_

I don't know how long I stayed there but my thighs were getting stiff, and slowly I rose to walk down the path, back onto the streets.

I'd never noticed before how lovely this park was. Quiet and calming, like a soothing balm. Many trees lined the walkway, their branches gently swaying in the breeze, leaves rustling, the rain making their many shades of green sparkle in the fading light. Ana would like it here. Pulling my jacket tighter round me and shoving my hands in my pockets, I walked. To where, I had no clue.


	2. Chapter 2: Elena

_Thank you thank you thank you, I'm so excited I've got reviews lol. I hope I've got this conversation right!_

_Oooh and just wanted to tell you something I heard on the radio today, about FSOG. It was said that the wrong demographic was reading it, and that more men need to pick up a copy. When asked why, the lady book reviewer said that men think they automatically know everything to please a woman between the sheets, and that this book might make them think that, whilst every woman may not want it the Grey way, there is more out there than a fumble and uncoordinated poking!_

_Right on sista!_

_Lol, on with Fear, and please review!_

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"Christian!"

"Elena." _What the hell...?_

"I was just locking up." She fumbled with the keys she held as she gaped at me, eyes suddenly narrowing. "You look in need of a drink; I have some whisky in a drawer with your name on it." She started to open the door she'd just closed. "Come."

"No. I know a bar a few blocks away that does a rather fine wine. Join me in a glass or two?" I asked, still not sure why I had walked here, or how I had even found my way - I was just aimlessly walking, trying to think, but every time I thought I was calm that I could finally think straight, boom it all flared up again, festering away – but knowing I didn't want to be alone with her.

We walked in silence to the bar – Colchis – and ordered a bottle of Pouilly Fumé. The place was quiet, but not too few people to make one feel conspicuous. The table we sat at was small and round, covered in a small blue gingham cloth with an empty wine bottle acting as a candle holder as its centrepiece. I watched as her immaculately manicured nails traced the lines of wax that had dribbled carelessly down the neck of the bottle, and then I saw her wickedly full lips curve into a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, as she snapped a piece off. "Ooops" she said, her voice almost imperceptibly soft.

She took a large gulp of her wine. "Christian, I...I need to aplologise."

I didn't speak. I sipped at my wine, the cool liquid doing nothing to douse the burning fire of rage I still felt.

"Your birthday...Anastasia...Grace...please, accept my sincerest apologies. I never meant for..."

"Meant for what, "Elena?" I asked, proud that I had managed to keep my temper under wraps. "For Grace to find out?"

"I never knew she had such a good right hook."

I sigh. "She's my mother, what did you expect? She had just found out one of her oldest friends and confidantes had seduced her fifteen year old son."

She glanced at me, looking slightly worried. "Does she know?"

"The gory details?" I laugh bitterly. "Do you really think I would?"

"And Anastasia?"

"Of course she knows everything" I emphasize the last word, deliberately and slowly.

"Will she tell Grace?"

"No" I state firmly. "If there's one thing I am sure of it's her loyalty."

"I've tried calling her a couple of times. Grace, I mean" she adds quickly, looking at me. "She won't talk to me. Even your father wants nothing to do with me. I won't repeat what he called me."

"Again, what did you expect?" I raise my eyebrow sardonically.

"I know, I understand."

She's looking down and I'm sure she's wringing her hands. Elena Lincoln looking contrite – there's a first.

"Would you please pass my apologies to Anastasia too."

"What for?" I ask coolly.

"I underestimated her" she says simply. She took a sip of her wine and refilled both our glasses. "Things are well between you both?"

"Perfectly fine" I say with a conviction I don't really feel.

"Only, and please" She raises her hands in mock defeat "Tell me to mind my own business if you want, but you seem rather...tense.

"Long day" I mutter, absentmindedly playing with the long thin stem of my wine glass. After what seemed like forever, the constriction in my throat had cleared enough for me to speak. "She mentioned the other day that having a child figured in her life."

"You wanted more, children figure in more. Don't you want that, because you have to tell her if not."

The silence was palpable, uncomfortably so. I turned my head and watched as people came in, and then left again. One particularly loved up couple came in, their arms tightly wrapped around the other, and they practically radiated happiness. I felt a pang of jealousy.

"The salon is doing well" She said suddenly, crashing through the noiseless void. "Greta's getting a bit of a management head on her shoulders." She laughed thinly. "It's nice to have her to lean on. She's come up with all these new ideas to expand the business, new ways to get new clients in and interested."

She's babbling. She knows it, and I know it. I don't care. I sip my wine, murmuring my approval in, I hope, all the right places.

"You do seem very, shall we say, distracted Christian, are you sure everything is fine?"

I note the concern in her voice and give her a tight smile.

"Are you missing it?" she says in a low voice.

I fix her with a stare. "It, or you?" I ask, my voice equally low. _Watch it Grey!_

"Both" she purrs, her foot lightly touching my leg.

"I love my wife" I growl, jerking away.

"I wasn't talking love Christian. I don't talk love." She reached out and laid a hand on my forearm, her grip light, but firm. "I know what you need and..."

I snatch my arm back and stare at her in horror.

"I need the restroom" she muttered quickly, and practically ran from the table.

I gawked after her – the audacity of the woman! I refilled my glass and gulped down the contents, actually pleased the alcohol was there. I rubbed my arm, it felt...odd, like I'd been burned. Hmmm the alcohol definitely helps. I fill my glass again.

I feel her presence before I see her. She's back. My scalp prickled.

"I haven't felt...not for years Elena" I said, calmly and controlled. "I neither need you nor want you. I am a happily married man and I adore my wife. Respect that or get out of my sight."

"Christian I'm sorry, I just got carried away. I have Isaac and...him and his scenes" she gave a nervous laugh "I just got caught in the moment." She didn't sit down. "Of course your life is with Anastasia now, and I wish you all the happiness in the world, I really do."

She sounds genuine, and looks it actually, but I've had enough. It's over.

"I do care for you, I miss you, our friendship" she says softly. "Although given my behaviour the last time the three of us were in a room together I can see how awkward it could be to continue our friendship."

"I couldn't agree more. I think, in fact, we should terminate this here and now."

She looks shocked. Hurt even. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"What about...?"

"About, what? I don't believe there is anything left to conclude, and if there is you'll hear from my lawyer." I know my look is burning a hole right through her.

"Fine."

"Goodbye Elena."

And she turns and walks.


	3. Chapter 3: Alcohol

_well this is the penultimate bit - another short one I know but I'm trying to find my feet still, it's been a long time since I've written, let alone allowed 'strangers' to read and comment. I do have another idea, but we'll have to see. I may shift away from just fillling in the gaps. Thank you all so much for the reviews, it spurs me on._

_I just wanted to reiterate something. I am filling in the gaps left bare in the books with my own take on things, and events will follow the book._

_Thanks again for all the reviews, and enjoy this next bit. Remember, more reviews = quicker the next bit appears! lol_

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My phone vibrates against my thigh, letting out two piercing beeps. Reaching into my pocket I retrieve it, and open the text.

***Where are you?***

I contemplate replying...and saying what? Deciding against it I stuff the phone back in my pocket and drain the bottle of any remaining liquid.

The alcohol is good, makes me feel kinda...strong, able to deal with things. I order a bourbon and down it in one, before ordering another, and another, and another, the amber liquid tracing a fiery path down my throat and into my belly, eventually leaving pain in its wake. Pain I can cope with, physical pain anyway. My head feels fuzzy. God I hate drunks, and here I am doing much the same thing! I smirk at the irony, remembering the ticking off I gave Ana after she had treated the local flora to her stomach contents. I haven't felt like this since...thoughts invaded my headspace – the still unaffected-by-alcohol headspace - unwelcome thoughts, ugly thoughts, thoughts that make me want to vomit, to lash out, thoughts I want to forget. I close my eyes. I feel miserable. I feel alone. I want to go home, but I can't. I behaved badly I know but, she's got to see my point, right? Please let her see my point, please.

In my mind's eye I see images of a peaceful Ana asleep in our bed. If I go home will she be in our bed? I'm not sure I want to face that possibility just yet.

Oh jesus I feel shit. I open one eye, and squint at the light. Why is the sun so bright? I open the other eye, blinking rapidly, things slowly coming into focus. How did I get home? Why am I semi undressed? And where is Ana? I need to speak to her.

"Gail, have you seen Ana?"

"Not since last night Mr Grey." Her tone is more strained than usual, and she has her back to me.

"Did she go out?"

"No."

Oh.

"I checked the guest room, she's not there either."

"I've not seen her at all Mr Grey. Would you like some breakfast?" She's still not looking at me.

"No thanks" I mumble, before retreating back to my room to pick up my blackberry. Maybe she stayed with Kate last night. But what do I say that won't let her know Ana's not here? I'll arrange lunch, and I'm ringing to invite her and I don't know if Ana's asked her yet. Yes, that'll work. Unlocking my phone, I see I have a text, from Ana

*** FWD: It was good to see you. I understand now. Don't fret. You'll make a wonderful father. WOULD YOU LIKE MRS. LINCOLN TO JOIN US WHEN WE EVENTUALLY DISCUSS THIS TEXT SHE SENT TO YOU? IT WILL SAVE YOU RUNNING TO HER AFTERWARD. YOUR WIFE***

_Fuck!_

"ANA!" I try desperately to open the door, hoping against hope it's just jammed, but no, it's locked, and there's no sound. I've checked the bedrooms, the bathrooms, hell I've even checked the closet, and this was my last hope. Where is she?

"Sir, her car is still in the car park."

"Thanks Taylor. Go downstairs and get everyone together, I'll check everywhere again."

Once downstairs, I'm aware I'm shouting at people, so quickly I don't have time to think about what I'm saying. Panic is rising in my throat, and panic and bourbon mixed tastes vile. Gail is a little upset, I gather that. She keeps insisting the last time she saw Ana she was in the library. I think she's worried Ana snuck out without her noticing, I don't think she'd forgive herself if that was the case. She was crying when I came down, tissue still grasped tightly in her hand.

The stairs creak, and I glance towards the noise, my heart stopping. Ana. She speaks, Sawyer nods, Gail speaks, but I don't hear what they're saying. I gaze on, and she looks...different. Wrapped in a duvet she seems impossibly small, tiny in fact yet here she is, larger than life. She looks like she's not slept well, and her eyes are puffy. Her mussed up sleep hair frames her face, a dark contrast to her alabaster skin, and her mouth is set in a hard thin line. Even so, she's so beautiful. Maddening, but beautiful.

"Where were you?" My gaze follows her as she walks confidently to the bedroom. I follow. "Ana answer me." She picks up pace and darts into the bathroom, locking the door. "Ana" I hit the door with my fist. "Ana open the damn door!"


	4. Chapter 4: Misery

_**A/N:**__ Last bit guys :( Hope you enjoy this bit, it was my favourite bit to write. Please review!_

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"...Ros I couldn't care less...I've already told you all this...there is no need to...Fuck sake woman do I need to look for someone who can actually do the job?...Okay well email me when the reports come through...Yes fine." I jabbed the end call button and threw my Blackberry across the room, hissing my anger. Frustrating women really don't do me any favours. OK maybe the veiled threat of a sacking was a bit much, but my orders were clear, there was no need to question them.

"Mr Grey?"

"What?" I snapped into the intercom, looking for the Advil.

"Its...I'm taking my lunch break now" Andrea's voice faltered, then steadier she says "I'm doing a deli run, can I get you anything?"

My stomach heaves.

* * *

I sat watching her sleep. Usually it was a pleasure to watch, to listen to her slow, deep, regular breathing, but this looked...wrong. Her face was pale, her eyes were rimmed in a vivid pink where she'd obviously been crying, and a frown was etched on her forehead. She was curled up on her side, one arm coiled protectively around her middle. Her breathing was ragged, shallow and uneven, like she was crying. I froze as she murmured something incoherent, and moved, tightening her grip around herself. I hate myself for making her feel this way – it seemed I never made her happy for very long. I sigh, that sure was one hell of a row we had earlier, and what good did it do? All that came from it was Ana rejecting our bed, the last thing I thought she'd do. Spineless she called me, a petulant adolescent. Well maybe it was a bit petulant of me to stay late at work and put off the inevitable, but can't she see I'm scared to death? I can't be a father...can I? How can I? I'm no good, can't she see that, I can't be anybody's father. Just the thought brings back the panic. She loves this baby already, like I knew she would. But then she had good role models, Carla adored her daughter from day one and Ray is practically her father, so it follows she'll dote on he own child. Me, I didn't. What if it's a genetic trait and I'm a fuck up too? Grace and Carrick took me into their home and gave me shelter, and their love, but it's not the same I realise gloomily. Jesus this is so fucked up! How damn hard is it to keep track of a fucking shot? It's only once every three months, it's not rocket science. I almost hate the thing inside her for being there, then hate myself for thinking it. I can't ask her to get rid of it that much I do know. But, I realise numbly, if I don't then I will be a father, and I don't want to be – not yet. Oh Christ, keeping up with this internal monologue is exhausting.

I swirl the sweet amber liquid around the glass I hold, and take a sip. It warms me, I'm so cold. I need my baby in my arms to keep me warm. I need to touch her, hold her, and be inside her, buried deep, connecting in the way we know how – the way we know best. I need to watch her fall apart, to fall apart with her. I love her with every fibre of my being, more than I thought was ever possible, and I need to be sure she still loves me, still wants me. A feeling of dread runs through me and my blood chills, making me shiver involuntarily. What if she doesn't? What if this was one outburst too many and she's had enough? _She's still here Grey, she'd have gone if she really wanted to. _Oh god why can't I be normal? That's my son or daughter in her belly, I should be pleased. She's giving me the greatest gift a wife can ever give her husband. I should be jumping for joy, punching the air and doing a little victory dance. Instead I'm anxious, the only thing I want to punch is a wall, and I'm certainly not dancing.

I breathe heavily, a steadying breath, and take another sip of my drink, grimacing at the thought still running through my head. I feel sad, out of control, and desperate. There's so much I want to tell her, need to tell her. I want to tell her I miss her, I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her I've been a jackass and she has every right to be angry. I want to tell her I finally understand how she feels about Elena, and that the thought of someone touching our 15 year old son or daughter made me feel sick, that I would do everything in my power to not let that happen. I want to tell her that I want a child, our child, but I'm absolutely fucking terrified, that I can't handle feeling like this. I want to tell her I'm not proud of what I did – more like downright appalled by my reaction, and Elena. Maybe I was out of order for seeing a woman she hates that much, but I still have no idea why I went there. Maybe there is some good to have come out of it though, I feel good for having seen her and cut all ties – or I would if I didn't feel so shit now. And as for asking if I'd slept with her...I could never sleep with another, never. Just the thought fills me with revulsion. How could she think I would?

Her anger could, I'm sure, be felt in the Outer Hebrides. I was kinda impressed, standing up to me the way she did, but at the same time it was like it was a different woman – she shocked me; she _intimidated_ me. She made me feel small – is that how I make people feel? Is that why she dislikes talking to me about anything of note because I do that to her? She's hinted at it often enough. It stung. The things she said and the things she did – recoiling from me like that, her eyes laced with horror, and..._disdain_ - hurt me like I'd never known, and it killed me. I'd wounded her. I realise that now. I know I was stupid, I know I was wrong. Oh god I know I was wrong, so so wrong, but it's too late now. It's just a matter of time.

I loosen my tie, and her words come back to haunt me.

_I do choose this defenceless baby over you.  
That's what any loving parent does._


	5. Chapter 5: Thank you

Hi guys and gals

I just wanted to end with a quick note to say thank you to all those who have reviewed my story, it has meant a lot to me that people have been behind me.

I also wanted to reply here to a PM I had, as there may be others thinking the same. I was asked why I left the chapter where I did when I'm not going to write any more? As I said in my A/N at the beginning of the third installment, I have merely played at filling in a gap in the book, and as they don't actually speak again until after the incident with Hyde, it seemed a perfect note to leave on.

I have spent today writing feverishly, I had a bit of a natty/crazy idea spawned by, but not part of, something in the book. I didn't think I'd get very far but it's turned out to be a few pages long. I'm a bit disappointed though as I can't post it, it's a bit too graphic lol. Oh well, there are other ideas in the pipeline, I just need to think them through properly.

Thank you again to everyone who took the time to review this piece, I've had fun writing it (chapters 2 and 4 especially), and I hope you've had fun reading.

C xxx


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